Gilbert S.
Yelp
There's a strange dissonance when a white wine-kissed pumpkin soup is set before you while someone elbows past with a cart full of napa cabbage and frozen dumplings. Welcome to POGU--Daly City's latest culinary enigma nestled in the heart of Jalgachi, a Korean grocery store as frenetic as it is fragrant.
My wife and I planned this visit with care. We skipped the chaos of opening week, giving the buzz a chance to settle and the kitchen, we hoped, time to breathe. The draw? A seasonal Chef's Choice menu crafted by a Michelin-starred chef, a five-course tour meant to showcase the ingenuity of modern Korean dining. We added the optional wine pairing--limited to two courses--and arrived with open minds and ready palates.
We were seated quickly in the modest dining area carved out from the center of the market. And then we waited. No water, no introductions, no soft landing. Just the lingering scent of hot broth from the nearby food stalls and the clatter of shopping baskets. When the food began to arrive, it did so with the detached rhythm of a cafeteria line.
Yet the dishes themselves spoke a different language--one of technique, ambition, and fleeting brilliance.
First Course: Pumpkin Soup with White Wine Pairing
Velvety and warm, the soup arrived in a minimalist bowl that belied its autumnal richness. Each spoonful was a blend of comfort and precision, its mellow sweetness elevated by the crisp minerality of the paired white wine. It whispered refinement--until the neighboring table's rice cooker beeped.
Second Course: Fish Salad with Crab Innards, Caviar, Red Bean Chili, and Spinach Aioli
Here, the chef reached for contrast and complexity. The brininess of the caviar tangled with the depth of the crab innards, while the red bean chili offered a gentle hum beneath it all. The spinach aioli tried to ground the dish but got a bit lost in the chorus. Ambitious, if slightly overcrowded.
Third Course: Buckwheat Noodle with Chicken Pesto
The most surprising dish of the night. Rustic and clean, the earthy buckwheat and herbaceous pesto mingled in a way that felt almost Italian-Korean fusion. It didn't need to be dramatic--it just worked.
Fourth Course: Beef Main with Assorted Banchan and Red Wine Pairing
The beef was tender, generously portioned, and plated with thoughtful simplicity. But what stood out more were the classic Korean side dishes--kimchi with a sharp bite, silky potato salad, and sweet-savory mixed vegetables. The red wine added depth, though it felt like a late guest to a table that had already moved on from introductions.
Fifth Course: Injeolmi Dessert
A delicate end. The chewy rice cake dusted in roasted soybean powder had a subtle nuttiness and nostalgia, but was more textural than revelatory.
The tragedy of POGU isn't the food--it's the context. The atmosphere, dominated by the din of grocery shoppers and the scent of frying batter, worked against any attempt at immersion. The service was polite but inconsistent; most staff seemed unsure of what they were serving. Only one server truly knew the menu and was a joy to speak with--but she arrived too late, too intermittently, to truly elevate the experience.
Final Thoughts
POGU feels like a passionate symphony trapped inside a karaoke bar. There's talent here--no doubt. The Chef's Choice menu showed flashes of brilliance, and I'm still thinking about that soup. But ambiance and service matter, especially when charging a premium for a curated experience. The idea of placing fine food in a chaotic public space might have been meant to democratize access to high-end cuisine. Instead, it left the food gasping for air.
Would I return? Perhaps, when the seasons change and the menu does too. But only if the venue finds a way to let the food speak without shouting over the supermarket.